Page 28 of House of Serpents and Slaves

But no matter how hard I worked, I couldn't escape my thoughts. They swirled in my head like a tempest, a confusing mix of anger, determination, and hurt. I was angry at Cato, of course, for his brutality and mockery. But I was also angry at myself for not being good enough, for failing to prove my worth.

And then there was Septimus. His reaction had cut deeper than Cato's blows. The disgust in his eyes, the harsh words he'd hurled at me - they replayed in my mind over and over. I'd always known he disapproved of my desire to become a gladiator, but I'd never seen him so cold, so dismissive. It hurt more than I cared to admit.

What’s more, I couldn’t get him out of my head. I couldn’t quite believe I’d kissed him like that. I mean, he was an attractive guy, but he was Septimus. My brother’s best friend, the annoying pest that had hounded me since I was a child. If anyone had been off limits it was him. He’d sensed it too, I knew that. We’d always avoided each other, and he’d never once called me to his room to use my body, or even shared me in the dining room, as others had, so I figured he felt the same. Like I was some annoying younger sister. But the way he’d looked at me in that alley, that burning hunger in his eyes that had sent fire burning in my core, that hadn’t been the look of a brother. It had been so wrong, but fuck it had felt so good.

No. I shook myself mentally. It was just wrong and I was not going to think about it, about him any more. I didn’t care that his kiss had called to something deep inside me, something long buried. I hated him, and it was clear he felt the same way, despite his obsessive need to interfere in my life.

Beneath the anger and humiliation, my resolve remained unshaken. If anything, this setback had only strengthened mydetermination. I would become a gladiator, no matter what Septimus or anyone else thought. I would prove them all wrong.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the dusty courtyard, I made my decision. I would not be defeated so easily. I would show them all what I was made of.

With renewed determination, I made my way to Marcus's quarters. Marcus was pacing when I entered, his lean frame casting long shadows in the lamplight. Though still recovering, there was nothing weak about the fury radiating from him as he turned to face me.

"Have you completely lost your mind?" he demanded, not bothering with pleasantries. "Taking on Cato? What were you thinking?"

I lifted my chin, refusing to be cowed. "I was thinking I deserved a chance to prove myself."

"Prove yourself?" He barked out a harsh laugh. "The only thing you proved is that you're not ready. You could have been killed, Livia!"

"I wasn't," I shot back. "I held my own."

"Held your own?" Marcus stopped pacing, his eyes blazing. "Is that what you call it? Because from what I heard, you barely lasted two minutes before he had you on the ground."

The words stung, but I refused to show it.

"Then let me train properly. Give me a real chance, not just these stolen moments in the early morning. I've been practicing for years, Marcus. Years! But none of you will even consider—"

"Because it's suicide!" He slammed his hand down on the table, making the cups rattle. "You think a few years of secret training makes you ready to face men who have been fighting their entire lives?"

"How will I ever be ready if no one gives me the opportunity to learn?" I demanded, taking a step forward. "You've seen me fight. You know I have potential."

"Potential?" His voice dropped dangerously low. "Potential doesn't mean anything when you're dead, Livia. This isn't some game. These men aren't going to go easy on you because you're a woman or because you're..."

"Because I'm what, Marcus? Because I'm not worth it?" The words tasted bitter on my tongue. "Is that all I am to you? Another slave to be protected and controlled?"

Something flickered in his eyes – pain, maybe, or regret. "You know that's not true."

"Do I? Because from where I'm standing, you're just like Septimus – so convinced I need to be sheltered, protected, kept safe in my little cage." My voice cracked slightly, but I pressed on. "I'm not that scared little girl anymore, Marcus. I can do this. I know I can. But I need someone to believe in me."

"Livia..." He moved closer, his anger seeming to deflate slightly. "It's not about belief. It's about keeping you alive."

"No," I said firmly. "It's about control, and I'm done listening to you. I'm never going to give up, Marcus. I'd rather die."

Marcus sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You're as stubborn as a mule, you know that?" But there was a hint of admiration in his voice. He seemed to be considering something. "Alright," he said finally. "I can't promise anything, but... there's something I want to show you. Something that might make you understand what you're really asking for."

Marcus led me through the darkening corridors of the ludus, our footsteps echoing softly against the stone walls. The usual bustle of the day had faded, but I could still hear people moving around, preparing for the fight this evening. We moved swiftly, ducking into shadows whenever we heard approaching footsteps.

"Where are we going?" I whispered, curiosity getting the better of me.

"The elite pens," Marcus replied, his voice barely audible. "And keep your voice down. We're not supposed to be here."

The thrill of secrecy sent a shiver down my spine. I'd heard whispers about the elite pens, the place where they kept the exotic beasts for special fights, but I'd never been allowed anywhere near them. As we descended deeper into the bowels of the ludus, the air grew thick and heavy, laden with unfamiliar scents.

We rounded a corner and came face to face with a burly guard. My heart leapt into my throat, but Marcus didn't miss a beat.

"Evening, Brutus," he said casually. "Drusus sent me to check on the new arrival. Make sure it's settling in."

The guard's eyes narrowed suspiciously, flickering between Marcus and me. "And the girl?"

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